


grave danger.

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempt at horror, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 14:50:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: on All Hallows’ Eve; The Beatles have the terrible luck of their tour bus breaking down on an old forest road- something starts beckoning them into the woods and they follow its siren calls.





	grave danger.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

1965,

“You idiot!” A large burly man with a bright red face screamed at a much slighter man, bent over and peering into the engine of the large vehicle. He was ignored as he screamed and cursed at the smaller man- the sounds of him echoing into the dark woods and imposing mountains. They were long into the Scottish Highlands and the bus belonged to The Beatles, hit making and chart topping band. They didn’t want to be in this situation (who would?) but there wasn’t much for them to do other than sit in the cold bus and wait for something, anything, to happen.

“Oi, he’s really having a go at ’im,” John commented, staring out the window, nose bumping against the glass, with a slight cackle for which Paul could only huff in response with a great frown, showing his annoyance at the situation quite clearly. “Well, we are stuck in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, y’know,” his arms were wrapped tightly against his own body as he shook from the cold with cheeks a bright pink. Paul ignored the continued chatter and snickering from John as he watched the last pair of the band through the window. They stood near the edge of the forest, smoking and chatting quietly between themselves as the wind softly swept through the trees with a quaint whistling melody. He watched them and listened as the melody grew louder and stronger and watched as Ringo mechanically turned towards the woods and slowly went in through the bushes and branches before all together disappearing in the woodland. George yelled and looked panicked from the bus to the trees as his eyes grew larger and larger. He ran off and suddenly appeared at the front end of the bus with a yell;

“Ringo’s gone,” the panic was clear in his voice as he shook John out of his seat. “Calm down, man,” John grumbled and rubbed his shoulders were Georges’s hands had just been. Paul shot from his seat and went to stand by the two men as he hurried to ask- “what d’ya say?”

George’s breath was fast and hitched as he explained the cause of his hysteria. “Ringo just went off! Into the forest! His eyes suddenly went… foggy and… he just left! Didn’t say nothing or answer me when I called after ‘im!” John and Paul shared a quick, silent glance before exchanging a single, worried nod; “we got to go after him then!” John exclaimed and rushed out the bus, storming towards the woods with the youngest two of the band right at his heels. They ignored the confused yells and stares of the crew as they disappeared into the thickness of the grove with nothing else on their minds but to find their friend.

**—**

They had wandered for, what felt like endless, hours passing by in a terrible darkness. All around them were they surrounded by pitch blackness and the scratching of gnarly leaves on twisted branches, reaching out for them like witches’ hands. They had yelled Ringo’s name till their throats became sore and their voices hoarse but still they called for the missing drummer, panic and worry growing ever stronger between the three of them. Hope was diminishing by the minute and they thought all were lost (and themselves too) when they saw a flickering light in the dark distance. “There!” Erupted Paul full of renewed faith and pointed to the light. He grabbed his friends by the arms and hurried towards what he hoped so strongly to be salvation.

But that hope quickly dwindled as they neared the light and saw its dreadful source. It was the angry flames of a lantern, situated high on a pristine mausoleum of gothic design, something that struck Paul as odd; they were nowhere near any type of civilization. No towns, no cities, and yet here stood a crypt tall and proud of its surroundings consisting of decaying tombstones and dead flowers. “I don’t like this. Not. At. All,” he heard George’s rasping voice whisper as they forced themselves to close in on the open entrance to the tomb. Paul glanced to John as they stopped at the entrance to the terrifying building, cold dread creeping up their spines, and noticed a sickly paleness come over the singer. Paul followed his eyes to where they stared so widely and saw Ringo’s worm drumsticks lie abandoned on the first step down the stairs. He heard George curse as he looked over Paul’s shoulder and down the staircase leading to what could only be doom.

Their steps echoed in the hollow corridor as the steps continued down and down in endless lengths- their breath quickening as the wear of the steps reached their muscles and they longed for the warmth and comfort of the tour bus that they were coming to miss so much. But they had to find Ringo, their greatest friend. They had to find him and get him from this cursed place, damn whatever had drawn him here in the first place. All could be forgotten if only they could come safely home again. All had become quiet as the steps finally ceased- they were too far down to hear the whistling of the wind that had become so familiar and the white beams of moonlight had vanished, leaving them only to be guided by their cigarette lighters. 

“Ringo!” They called and heard the name bounce against the rotting bricks as they followed the path of dirt their friend must have had left behind through his trance towards the unknown. But no answer came and their steps hurried into the growing bleak darkness of the endless passageway.

What they found was far from their liking; drops of blood started appearing on the mossy green stone pathway, dark red splotches that lead them around a corner and into a room lit by unsteady candles mounted on high pillars. And in the corner laid Ringo, eyes closed as he breathed heavily, shivering at each movement of his chest. They sprinted forward to their friend’s aid, knocking into each other as they came to a halt at his feet. John kneeled down and tucked at his sleeve as he gently whispered his name. Ringo stirred the slightest and opened his eyes with the slowest of speeds and the faintest of whispers- “you’re too late.”

The last of his words barely escaped his lips drained of colour when a force of wind knocked the boys to their feet and the lights died with the loudest of exit. A laughter- nay, a cackle- erupted through the room and hard shivers came over the boys’ skin as they felt the number of minutes they had left on this mortal plane dry up. They held their hands tight together around Ringo’s deadly cold ones as they accepted the slow creeping presence of something frighteningly unknown come over the room like a thunderous cloud.


End file.
